The Mer- Lion (26 page)

The king had told her, however, that would never do. She had
t
aken the news badly, crying and bewailing his treatment of her, and refusing for the rest of the night to let him play any of those charming games they'd enjoyed the previous nights. She would be no doe and let him chase her round the bed. Nor vixen hiding under furniture and jumping out into his arms. He'd had great ideas for this night when they would have relived the boar hunt. But the silly girl had other things on her mind, and the night was a total loss. Especially coming atop that row with his mother. He knew from sad past experience that making amends could cost his treasury a pretty penny. Just how much depended on what portion of the row she remembered.

So far this morning, both he and his mother had avoided meeting each other's eyes, but now he stole a glance at her profile in hopes of getting a clue to how she felt. What he saw didn't bode well: her eyes dull with bags below, her mouth set, her lower lip more prominent than ever, her hair pulled back under a coif and her face powdered more heavily than usual. She looked the martyr, but James feared he was the one who was going to suffer.

On the king's other side sat the Lady Ann, looking paler than , usual. Her eyes were red and her mouth trembled as if she would weep. Only Lord Campbell seemed his usual surly self, although he did wonder why, when things had obviously gone so
welt,
his fellow occupants of the dais seemed so unhappy. As for himself, he had never eaten so well, and he was gorging himself, for he feared the good food would not last once the royals were gone. He decided he would have to talk to the Lady Ann about that when she'd recovered from her royal fever and had come back to earth as the Lady Campbell she was.

Thus matters stood when de Wynter's presence was announced. He entered, dressed in shades of beige, from the palest of fawn to a rich golden hue, to a mixed reception. The king welcomed him—in hopes that the Queen Dowager would find in her lover a source of solace for her pique with her son. The Queen Dowager ignored him—how dare he let her suffer that way! The Lady Ann fawned upon him—desperately trying to make the king jealous. The Lord Campbell glared at him—how dare he make so free of the Castle Campbell, coming and going as he pleased.

Bowing low, de Wynter requested a few words in private with the
king, who seized upon this excuse to leave the frosty atmosphere of the dais. Ordering the court to continue with their meal, he drew de Wynter with him, and the two made their way to the music room.

Before de Wynter could say anything, the king began. "I know what you wish," he said, not looking at his cousin, but idly playing a few sour notes on the harpsichord. If he had looked, he might have seen a startled look appear briefly then vanish from de Wynter's face. The king continued, "Your mother informed me of your desire to renounce your claim to the throne last night. I am of mixed emotions about it."

Abandoning the harpsichord, he swung around and looked de Wynter in the eye. "On the one hand, we are not particularly eager to have that snot-nosed offspring of the Douglases, my half sister, move any closer to the throne than she is now. It is a bone of contention, I admit, between me and the Queen Dowager. She would love it, and my stepfather would love it more. On the other hand, we should feel more comfortable not having a contender to the throne to our left during future boar hunts." Then, the king _ added, his smile taking some of the sting out of his words, "Besides, my future hunts would have more predictably happy results for me if you were back in France."

Now, it was de Wynter's turn. "Between you and me, sire, I should be happy to take ship tomorrow. Nor do I see why my lady mother places such emphasis on the matter. Although I gladly renounce my birthright, I should suppose that any moment now one of those fortunate ladies you favor might produce a solution to the problem of an heir. I understand that England is considering such a solution to her problem. Which, of course, is no surprise to you. Just look at the honors Henry has heaped on his bastard, Henry Fitzroy."

At James's look of inquiry, he continued, "Besides acknowledging the boy, the child has been made Duke of Richmond and of Somerset. Two significant titles, wouldn't you say? If I recall rightly, Richmond was Henry VIII's title before he succeeded, and Somerset had been the king's own dukedom as well as that of his grandfather. Then there was the lad's elevation to Lord High Admiral. You know, I have even heard of some plan afoot to make him King of Ireland." This was court gossip of the highest caliber, and King James was all
ears. Briefly, he wondered how a man sitting way off on the Continent would know so much more of the doings in England, a land on James's own doorstep. James, for the first time, could understand why Francis I's ancestor had become familiarly known as the Spider King of France and Europe—and Francis had evidently inherited that trait from his great grandsire.

Now, de Wynter threw out a piece of gossip that might be the most revealing to his purpose: "The latest is the duke's proposed marriage. I understand that papal authorities have been sounded out and the Cardinal Campeggio himself has seen no moral objection to the duke's marrying the Princess Mary."

Only by the slightest narrowing of the eye did James reveal special interest in this direction, but de Wynter had been watching for just such a sign. James's reply was quite casual, however. "You seem quite knowledgeable of events in England—and in Rome."

"Sire, I have spent the past eight years in France," de Wynter said. "One learns to survive. As to Rome, that's easily explained. I was Albany's squire on the Italian campaign in '24. We took part in that ill-advised midwinter assault on Naples. There, besides developing a taste for rodents, I made some friends among the Neapolitans. Anyway, a year later, I was among the several thousand survivors evacuated by Madam Louise, the Queen Mother, who acted as regent for her imprisoned son.        '

"Ah," responded the king. "That's how you came to be called winter."

"Not really. Although it was certainly appropriate. No, the name was given to an early member of my line by Eleanor of Aquitaine at one of her Courts of Love. Whether it referred to his sangfroid or, more logically, this strange head of hair, I know not. Anyway, when Francis was ransomed a year later, in the flush of his freedom from Charles V, he gave honors and benefices and titles to his fellow survivors of the Italian campaign. That's when I received Alais. Actually it was Queen Claude's decision to renew the honorific of de Wynter."

"You still haven't explained your Roman connection."

"Oh that. One of the Neapolitan friends I made is now a prince of the Church. It was he who had occasion to describe Clement's unofficial reaction to the marriage of Mary Tudor."

There again, James's eyes gave him away. De Wynter was certain now. Mary Tudor was the object of James's interest. But de Wynter knew, he would have to lead up to the matter gradually.

"There is another solution," de Wynter said, abruptly changing the subject.

For a moment James feared his mind had been read. "There is?"

"You could take you a Scottish wife and produce a legitimate heir, one the whole country would welcome."

The king chuckled. Partly in relief. " 'Tis not a particularly original idea, cousin. Lives there a lord in this country with a marriageable gal who hasn't thrown her at me? And well though they might rally round such an heir, first let me make a choice among the women and I'll have the clans at each other." He laughed sardonically. "Such a marriage would make the Cleanse-the-Causeway look like good clean fun, the blood would run so."

De Wynter was not deterred by the king's response. "A foreign princess then? One who could swell your coffers?"

Now, the king was all ears. And his suspicions aroused. "You interest me, cousin, go on."

"Consider the possibilities. There is, of course, England. The Princess Mary Tudor."

Now, it was out in the open. Obviously this was James's hope. A marriage with England would mean a uniting of the two kingdoms on the one isle—under a Stewart. But James, de Wynter also realized, was not yet ready to reveal his dreams to a newfound cousin. Indeed, James went back, oh so casually, to fingering the tinny music piece.                           

"Her father and my mother are brother and sister," was his only response.

"No more consanguine than the marriage between brother and half sister which the Pope is prepared to bless in the case of Richmond and Mary. So, one. could assume a papal dispensation would solve Scotland and England's problems. That is, if the Pope were as inclined to grant one for James as he is for Henry. There is the embarrassment of your mother's marriage to Methven to consider, you know.

"There is still another hurdle to cross if we get over the papal one. What assurance would one have, once thoroughly wedded and
bedded, that Henry would not prevail again on the Pope and have his marriage to Catherine of Aragon annulled? With the mother put aside, would not the daughter be? And what if the king should beget himself an heir on this Boleyn girl he's so hot to marry. What, then, would already poor Scotland have purchased for its money?"

De Wynter had all the king's attention, and a small appeal to his for whom Boleyn served as maid of honor for about three years, tells me the girl, besides being an exotic beauty, is an enchantress. Clever, intelligent, witty, the type of woman who would appeal to you."

De Wynter had the king's attention now, and a small appeal to his vanity did not hurt. Now, to capitalize on his advantage. "Unfortunately, Anne Boleyn is not available. But Madeleine of France is. She is everything that Anne is and more. Unlike Mary Tudor, her legitimacy is assured, her sons would rule—and France would not demand monies of you, as England has. Just the opposite. A full 50,000 crowns will be the princess's dowry."

The talk of money Stirred James as little else could. Fifty thousand crowns? For that, his mother'd forgive him anything. Even the murder of Methven—or two Methvens. But it would not do to let lee Wynter know he'd struck a responsive chord. Besides, twice now de Wynter had mentioned, in veiled terms, of course, as England's demand that Scotland pay for the privilege of marrying their king to England's princess. If word were out in Europe—James didn't want to think on that—it would kill all chance of a marriage between Mary and himself.

De Wynter was continuing. "I have myself seen the girl. She is a lovely girl, and sweet but not lacking in a sense of adventure. One who would do anything to please her lord." His voice became more confidential; and though the two were alone in the dank empty room, James moved closer so as better to hear.

"Naturally, being the daughter of a renowned lecher and womanizer like Francis and his most prolific and fecund queen, you can be assured that the girl would not be a disappointment in bed. However, I assure you that French monarchs watch over the virginity of their daughters like the jewel it is. The Lady Madeleine would come to you ignorant of any other man."

That, thought James, would be a novelty. Since Douglas began
pandering to his stepson with cast-off leavings, James was more accustomed to well-used women. It might be nice to stretch a rich virgin.

Casually de Wynter reached into the pouch he carried at his side, and produced a small red leather box. "Perhaps you'd care to see her likeness?"

James as casually reached for the box. It fit comfortably within the palm of his hand. On its cover the fleur-de-lis of France was heavily stamped in gold. Within its Mack velvet interior was a small oval portrait. The girl's likeness he dismissed with a glance. "Sweet" adequately described it. But the frame. That was a work of art. Blue enamel with traceries of gold throughout and a studding of diamonds at the end of each golden tendril. At the top of the frame like a crown, a large pear-shaped pearl surmounted a cluster of rubies and diamonds in the shape of some exotic flower with leaves that were oval-cut emeralds.

James was impressed. The frame was priceless. If Francis should send such a gift as this just to tantalize the prospective bridegroom, the 50,000 crowns might be only the first offer. But it wouldn't do to seem too eager. Besides, there were negotiations under way for an Infanta from Spain—not to mention the English marriage. And the Hollander one. Ah, it was good to be young and unmarried if one were a king, even the king of a poor country.

In the meantime, the French princess must not be refused, nor her ambassador discouraged. Thus, James temporized, "Cousin, I am disappointed in you. A man with such a reputation with women should have been able to scare up more flattering words to describe such a young beauty. I shall keep this portrait with me always, to gaze on her—how did you characterize it?—her sweet face whenever my soul needs mending. As to the marriage itself. Though she is in truth a most desirable wife, and her dowry is—how would I describe it? adequate—I cannot at this time think of marrying this or any other princess."

He stopped with a woeful sigh, but he neither looked nor sounded sincere. De Wynter had not expected otherwise. A decision of this magnitude would take careful study. Francis knew it, too. This .was only France's opening gambit. For, while Scotland was being offered one bride, Mary Tudor was being sought for the Dauphin. Marriage
was as good a way as conquest to unite kingdoms. Francis with his brood of children had more confidence in marital maneuvers than martial ones. He had, after all, been notoriously unsuccessful in his attempts at the latter.